Luck of the Draw
by tonidepp16
Summary: Effie is about to embark on the journey of becoming an escort for the Hunger Games, but what happens when she unintentionally smashes a mirror before she is given a district. Surely the fates could not be exceedingly cruel to her...or could they? What does the next seven years have in store for her? Hayffie fic.
1. Part One

**AN: Howdy doody dear readers. As you can see, I have once again started a new fic - I am trying my best to continue with my other ongoing fics but I'm still awaiting on inspiration. If there are any readers here who are following my Harry Potter fanfic, Perfecting the Golden Years, you may be in luck: I have been trying to work on it in the last couple of days, so keep an eye out and you may very well see an update soon (no complete guarantee but keep your fingers crossed).**

**Okay, so the last fic I uploaded was a Hunger Games one-shot centred around Haymitch and Effie. I enjoyed writing the characters immensely and have so decided to base another fanfic around them. This originally was going to be a one-shot also, however I have come to a bit of a standstill at the moment so I've decided to split it up instead. The idea for it came to me after I received an amazing book called The Writer's Block (which is in the shape of an actual block) for my birthday a few months ago. It includes lots of ideas, pictures and spark words to help out the struggling writer - it's amazing! So when I randomly opened it, I came across the spark word 'superstitious' and immediately thought of Effie. I think she's exactly the type of person who would without a doubt, believe in all sorts of superstitions and that's where Luck of the Draw comes in.**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, zilch, zero, nada. **

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**Luck of the Draw**

**Part One**

_Today's the day_, she thought. Today Effie Trinket was to become an escort in the mighty Hunger Games. She dreamt of this day from the tender age of seven. Her parents were well respected republicans of the Capitol and avid watchers of the Games, so naturally they pushed their young daughter to follow in their footsteps.

Seven was the age they placed little Effie in front of their grand television set to get a taste of what they called 'viewing pleasure'. Six was the usual age Capitol parents were encouraged to make their younglings tune in - 'teaching them at a _ripe_ age' as the President would put it. Effie however had proven to be a...delicate child: she became queasy at the sight of blood on her grazed knee; she screamed if she witnessed an animal getting knocked over by a moving vehicle in the street; she even cried if a small creature such as a butterfly died – she was only young and only human after all. Nonetheless, the Capitol did not appreciate its citizens showing weakness (which included human emotions when it came to the Hunger Games) no matter how young they were. It was seen as a compulsory watching and the public _had_ to enjoy it, otherwise it was seen as a conspiracy against the government.

Because of her _'condition'_, Effie's parents decided that it was better to wait until their daughter was more prepared to stomach what they called entertainment_, _however they could not wait forever - Snow had eyes in every nook, every cranny, every corner of not just the Capitol but the entirety of Panem. Mr and Mrs Trinket could not afford to wait longer than a year to cover for their daughter's obscenities. No matter how well respected they were, their lives depended on this one particular course of action; President Snow's laws were not ones to be messed with.

After much pleading with her parents to not be made to watch, she lost her ongoing battle and from the moment her eyes were set on the opening ceremony, she was brainwashed. Quickly becoming a fan, she realised what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. She had to become involved in the Hunger Games, even if she died doing so. The main high school in the Capitol offered an extra two year curriculum after they had finished their main studies, to pursue different careers related to the Games. The pupils wanting to take said course, of course had to earn decent enough grades in the rest of their subjects and had to hold an extreme perseverance, independence, work ethic, personality and eagerness; Effie maintained all of these traits. She passed the exams, which allowed her to be accepted on the course, with flying colours, earning her a reputation as star pupil.

Her first choice of Games career was not escort but in fact stylist. She loved fashion in every sense of the word and always had to keep updated with the latest trends (and she of course could afford to do so because of her parents' reputations). However, even though she was, shall we say, obsessed with fashion and had excellent grades in all other manners of her schooling, there was something she was lacking when it came to herself actually designing. She did not know what it was that she lacked, she was star pupil for goodness sake, but according to her teachers she was not as artistically talented as a stylist should be. She thought this was highly ridiculous and wanted to tell her tutors as much but prevented herself from doing so, it was bad manners after all. They instead pointed her in the direction of the escorts. She wasn't particularly fond of the idea, still disappointed with the fact that she couldn't pursue her dream as a stylist. After a considerable amount of research on her part, she discovered she fitted the role more than she originally thought: she would valet two 'lucky' tributes to the Capitol (that was easy enough, right?) and introduce them to the fruits and pleasures of the main attraction in the whole of Panem; she would teach them how to act, behave and portray themselves – she would surely perfect this particular motion as she loved ordering people around and the sound of her own voice when she did so; she would show them off to the whole of the Capitol in public, not to mention the whole of Panem on national television where all its citizens would notice what a good job she had done – maybe she would be lucky enough to be presented with an award by President Snow because of it? It was her chance to become famous because of all her hard work, something she was born to be. These were the thoughts that spurred her on.

After once again earning a spot as one of the school's top students, graduating with top grades and passing a couple of weeks escort training without any qualms, Effie had finally arrived at exactly where she wanted to be – in front of her bathroom mirror, preparing herself for her first official day. She donned her brand new wig, styled in a bronze bob, while thinking about what the day would entail. She would be given a brief induction (not that she needed it, she knew the majority of the details like the back of her perfectly manicured hand) and more importantly, assigned to the district she would be working for, for the rest of her days as a Hunger Games escort (unless of course she got promoted). She hummed brightly as she straightened her wig and started to apply her make-up while pondering about which of the districts she would be assigned to. Eight of the twelve district escorts had reached the age of retirement, so the choice would be entirely pot luck. She hoped upon hope that she would be assigned to a Career district – they were the more civilised and betted on districts; she would find fame and (more) fortune quicker than she could say Panem if she were escort for either One, Two or Four. Smiling at her perfectly made-up reflection, Effie declared herself ready...until the unthinkable happened.

Effie was so overly occupied at making herself presentable that she became extremely startled when the phone rang suddenly, resulting in the most obvious of reactions – jumping. Her arms flailed in the air as the sound flooded her ears, knocking the mirror off the cabinet and sending it crashing to the tiled floor. She stared devastatingly as the glass seemed to smash in slow motion and the sounds of the shards scattering across the floor joined the demanding screams of the telephone. What should have been the happiest day of her life just turned into a living nightmare. She didn't like to admit it overly but Effie Trinket was extremely superstitious. It came with the territory she supposed: she was very prim and proper, she was very neat and she liked to keep things in order, therefore hating chaos. Above all else, she could be exceedingly paranoid, resulting in becoming a believer of superstition. She never walked underneath ladders, she made sure to miss all cracks in the pavement and even though she was was a cat lover, she stayed clear of all black ones.

Time seemed to stand still as she gazed at the mess in front of her. _Seven years bad luck_, she repeated in her mind, _seven years bad luck_. The phone's rings died away when it realised that no one was going to answer. _This couldn't happen, not now_. Her life had been carefully planned out, now it was going to fall apart in one foul swoop, exactly like her antique mirror. She continued to stare, dumbfounded, at the shattered mirror until her eyes caught sight of the gold watch on her wrist. As if waking from her trance, she hurriedly reached out for some toilet paper and bent down to pick up the pieces. She gathered the majority into a pile and swiped them into her hand with the toilet paper. A jagged end tore through the tissue and sliced into her finger, her rouged cheeks turning grey slightly. She held it under the cold tap, the wound stinging as the icy water flowed over it, all the while rummaging through the cabinet to find a plaster – she would have to remember to visit the pharmacy after her induction to purchase some healing ointment. Placing the plaster over the cut as best as possible, she straightened her wig once more and hastily picked up her bag, running out the front door. _This had to be a coincidence._

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**AN: And so is the end of part one. Just to clarify, I am aware that there are loads of different theories that revolve around the superstition of black cats, both good and bad. Because I am writing Effie as extremely paranoid and a huge believer in superstition, I think that she is more inclined to believe the bad. **

**I hope you lovely readers enjoyed the first part and that you will all do me a huge favour by hitting the review button - I like reviews. The second part is already written but I am going to wait to see if I get at least a few reviews before updating, so go ahead people, you know you want to.**

**On another note, if you haven't read my previous Hunger Games fic, Embracing Possibilities, then by all means check it out. It is not related to this fic in any way, it would just mean a lot if more people would give it a looksie. **

**Thank you, lovely people - until the next time :). **


	2. Part Two

**AN: Welcome back. Before I start, I would just like to thank Gdreams for story alerting and reviewing the first chapter - I was going to leave it a while longer to upload but as a reward for being the only reviewer, I am updating earlier. And so, I give you the second part of Luck of the Draw and the introduction of Haymitch.**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: I'm not Suzanne Collins...bugger!**

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**Part Two**

_No. This had to be a mistake or an extremely cruel joke._

"I'm sorry Miss DuVille, could you please repeat that?" Jewel DuVille, Effie's induction hostess, rolled her eyes unceremoniously and repeated her announcement.

"I said, Miss Trinket," she answered in annoyance, "that you are now officially the escort for District Twelve." Effie had in fact heard her correctly; she was afraid of that.

"Y...you must be mis...mistaken, Miss DuVille..." Effie stammered but was quickly interrupted.

"I assure you I am not, Miss Trinket. Mistakes are not in my vocabulary."

"Of course, I was not suggesting...forgive me, Miss DuVille. I was under the impression, however, that I would be assigned to a Career district." Jewel cackled shrilly.

"I do not know what gave you that impression, Miss Trinket," Jewel replied after quickly composing herself back into a professional manner. "But you are entirely too young and inexperienced to be assigned to a Career district directly after finishing your studies."

"I qualified as top student, both at school and my training," Effie replied defensively.

"So I understand it, however the remaining escorts who have not just joined the team have been promoted. They have worked long and hard over the years to get where they are today and deserve every bit of their promotion." Effie looked deflated, why had she not thought of that?

"I...I see...of course...only right," she replied, feeling utterly defeated.

"Chin up, Miss Trinket, everyone has to start at the bottom to work their way to the top. Your determination and hard workmanship will foresee your progress in the future and I assure you, you shall be rewarded." _Liar_, Effie thought. How on earth would she be rewarded with a promotion to a higher district if she started with the lowest of the low? A district which hardly ever produced a winner? The previous escort only got promoted because other escorts had retired, not because of the district's percentage of victors. Not only that, but the woman had waited years for a promotion and it was only by chance that she got it – how long would Effie have to wait? Would she ever get the chance? Probably not. District Twelve was poor and unstable, its tributes always weak and insignificant. Not to mention that their mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, was rumoured to be a slobbish drunk these days, who was incredibly rude and never did anything to try and at least help his tributes. This definitely was not a coincidence. This was the start of her curse and she had seven long years to go. She was doomed.

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_Wonderful. This is working out spectacularly_. She was of course thinking this in a sarcastic manner. She was currently sitting within a meeting room inside District Twelve's Hall of Justice, accompanied by Mayor Undersee and a few other officials, awaiting the arrival of one Haymitch Abernathy. Reaping day had finally arrived for the 67th Annual Hunger Games and Effie's attendance was required an hour earlier than what would become her usual time of arrival, due to introductions with acquaintances she would be working with in the future. District Twelve's previous escort, Fuchsia Royal, was also present for moral support, considering it was Effie's first Games, to take her through the process. They had been sitting in silence for a full fifteen minutes, waiting for Haymitch to make an appearance before Mayor Undersee realised his appearance was indeed a long-shot and it would be best to press on before making their way outside for the Reaping. Fuchsia babbles her way through the rules and regulations (which Effie knew inside and out but decides against interrupting her predecessor), Mayor Undersee adding points and opinions here and there. It wasn't until three quarters of an hour after they had arrived at the meeting that District Twelve's mentor decided to make an appearance. He barged into the room without knocking, stumbled his way over to the table and slouched into a chair opposite Effie; she wrinkled her nose at the stench of alcohol and body odour that wafted off their new arrival.

"Ughh...Miss Trinket, may I present District Twelve's one and only mentor, Mr Haymitch Abernathy," Mayor Undersee announced awkwardly. Haymitch groaned in response. Effie supposed this was his impolite way of saying hello. _How rude_, thought Effie, _he won't even make eye contact_.

"Tut, tut Haymitch," trilled Fuchsia. "As you can see, Effie dear, Mr Abernathy has a problem with manners, along with punctuality, personal hygiene and the ability to stay sober longer than an hour." Effie's eyes widened in horror. _Surely this couldn't be a regular occurrence? He is a mentor for __goodness sake!_ She had of course heard rumours that Haymitch was a bit of a wreck but she thought the majority was a tad over exaggerated. Looking at him now, she could see that the rumours were entirely true. This was a big problem.

"You wound me darlin', you really do," slurred Haymitch. He looked up from the ground, where his gaze was focused on a smidgeon of dirt on his shoe, and turned towards the mayor. "Why have I been summoned here, Undersee?" Mayor Undersee was about to respond but Fuchsia beat him to it.

"Did you forget, Haymitch dearest? I'm retiring..."

"So there is a God!" Haymitch interrupted.

"...and this meeting is in honour of introducing everyone to your new escort," Fuchsia continued, ignoring that Haymitch had even opened his mouth. "This is my replacement, Miss Effie Trinket." Haymitch switched his gaze towards Effie for the first time, who managed to force a smile on her face.

"And there was me thinking that no-one could be worse than this old bat." He pointed in the direction of Fuchsia, who didn't even have the nerve to look flabbergasted at his name-calling any more – she had been the centre of it since they started working together. "I haven't even heard you speak yet sweetheart, but I can tell I'm going to have a migraine which will never leave whilst I'm in your presence."

To say that Effie was disgusted was more than an understatement. She had never met anyone so rude and vile in her entire life.

"Now, now Haymitch," Fuchsia reprimanded. "There's no need to frighten the girl with your rudeness before she has even started."

"Darlin', what makes you think I even give a shit about what she thinks? Or you? Or any of you Capitol fu..."

"Language, Mr Abernathy!" Effie squealed, speaking for the first time since his arrival. Haymitch smirked.

"Ah, so she speaks," he taunted. "Was beginning to think you were a mute, sweetheart. Got a feeling I'll be wishing you were though – you fancy, over-enthusiastic, ridiculously painted Capitol women never know when to shut your traps." He looked pointedly towards the previous 'pain in the ass' escort, who plastered a disgustingly 'sweet' smile upon her face in reply. It annoyed to him to no end that because of the length of time they had worked together, he could no longer anger her like he once had. However, he felt slightly more gratified when he noticed the look of pure horror still encased across the new escort's face. Oh this was going to be priceless, he would rile her and get on her last nerve until she could take it no longer. _Poor little – what was her name again? Ellie? Edna? - won't know what hit her._

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**AN: And that is the end of Part Two. I hope that I didn't ruin the character of Haymitch too much - out of the series, he is my favourite character so I wanted to do the character justice as much as possible. I really would be grateful that when you've finished reading, if you could leave a tiny review...please, please, please! Cookies to all who review - you know you can't resist cookies. **

**I'm not overly sure when I'll be updating next but hang in there and I'll hopefully have a brainwave soon. Until the next time, dear readers :). **


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